Arc-4 Ch-11

The only sound echoing in the room is the crackling of wood in the stove. On the old-fashioned sofa, two small children—sleep softly, their breathing steady.

They must be exhausted from crying ever since they were separated from their mother. With nothing to do but wait, time crawls by painfully slowly.

“…Achoo.”

A cute sneeze comes from beside me. It takes a moment to realize it’s one of the siblings, chilled by the cold. I pull their blanket up to their shoulders and move the stove closer to the sofa.

That should keep them a bit warmer. Several hours have passed since the four of them and the Bartfort family set out. Waiting in the barracks for their report feels like torturous boredom. No one would blame me for staying aboard the royal airship docked at this airfield. But with the lord’s wife kidnapped by pirates and the lord himself leading the charge to rescue her, this situation is nothing short of an emergency.

More importantly, as Bartfort pointed out, we can’t rule out the possibility of someone attacking this land while its defenses are weakened. Miss Deidere has requested reinforcements from the Roseblade family, but by the time the earl arrives in Bartfort territory, it’ll likely be past midnight, with the sun already rising.

As the highest-ranking authority here—a prince—I can’t afford to let my guard down; it would set a poor example for those under me. If I were with trusted subordinates, they’d probably overlook me dozing off in my private quarters on the airship. But most of the soldiers here are Bartfort’s subjects.

Any discourteous behavior could fuel criticism and distrust toward the Holfort royal family. Still, having subordinates constantly hovering around me is suffocating. The only ones in this room are me and the viscount’s children, left behind by the baroness, the highest-ranking noblewoman in Bartfort territory right now.

Miss Deidere, having finished her tasks, promptly left for the lodging prepared by the Bartfort family. I’m a bit jealous of her carefree attitude.

“Being royalty is so restrictive,” I mutter to myself—a mix of resignation and despair I’ve repeated thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of times.

Looking back, during my academy days, I was like a caged bird, yearning for the vast sky without knowing the bite of the wind or the terror of predators. Royal duties felt burdensome, and I admired adventurers who lived by their own strength.

I romanticized a gentle world of adventure stories, ignorant of the harsh realities: people risking their lives for daily sustenance, petty thieves stealing rewards, or former adventurers, injured and begging on the streets, starving to death.

After my engagement to Angelica was broken, I fought sky pirates and joined wars. It was only when I took on royal duties that my eyes were opened. No, perhaps my perspective grew sharper, allowing me to see things from different angles. If I truly cared for Olivia, my duty wasn’t just to protect her.

It was to create a society where capable, righteous people are recognized without prejudice. Breaking down the wall of bias between commoners and nobles is no easy task. Excusing rude behavior out of ignorance would simply be favoritism. I should have taught Olivia how to carry herself in a way that earned respect from nobles as an individual.

Looking back, Angelica only directly confronted Olivia when she got close to me. Even then, she only criticized us—never resorting to harassment. With the power of a ducal house, she could have easily had a commoner scholarship student transferred to a regular class or expelled.

But Angelica never did that. She simply pointed out our faults logically and urged us to behave more carefully. And yet, that day came, and our relationship broke beyond repair. Investigations later revealed that the nobles persecuting Olivia were led by the fiancées of the five of us, but Angelica wasn’t among them.

It was the result of the duke’s entourage, steeped in prejudice against commoners, running rampant. In fact, Angelica had repeatedly tried to stop them. I knew from years of knowing her that Angelica despised injustice and favoritism, yet I never doubted she was the mastermind.

“If you can’t control those beneath you, it’s the fault of those above.”

Believing that, I banished Angelica, who bore no guilt—making me the ultimate fool. If failing to control subordinates is a sin, then we, unable to even manage our fiancées’ tempers, are equally guilty. We, who wielded power unjustly to condemn the innocent, were no different from the nobles who persecuted Olivia. It was later revealed that Duke Frampton had been pulling strings, sowing discord between me and Angelica, acting as Olivia’s patron to gain influence and colluding with the Fanoss Duchy.

Praised as heroes for protecting the kingdom, we grew arrogant, only to realize our mistakes too late. No amount of regret can turn back time, and I couldn’t even beg for forgiveness as the years passed. Though spared disinheritance, the royal family—unsure what to do with me after I’d harmed the kingdom’s interests—sent me to fight sky pirates or dispatched me to the Alzer Republic, likely hoping I’d die.

Olivia, tirelessly working to heal the wounded kingdom, is truly worthy of being a saintess, while I never felt worthy of her.

Crack, crack.

The loud pop of the firewood snaps me back to reality. I must have dozed off, lulled by the stove’s warmth. The clock’s hands haven’t moved much. While I sit here, others might be fighting.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,” I mutter.

“…Excuse me,” says the baroness, entering cautiously.

She carries a tray with a single dish.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t prepare anything grand,” she says.

“No need to worry. Make yourself at ease.”

“I thought you might want something to fill your stomach.”

A steaming bowl of vegetable-heavy soup sits before me. I haven’t eaten properly since arriving in Bartfort territory. The moment I acknowledge my hunger, an overwhelming appetite surges.

“Subordinates have already tested it for poison. It’s simple fare, probably not suited to royal tastes, but…”

“No, I’ll gladly take it.”

I pick up the spoon and take a sip. It’s likely seasoned with just salt and a pinch of spices. The broth, infused with vegetables and a hint of meat fat, isn’t rich but has a gentle, comforting flavor. It’s slightly lukewarm, probably from the poison test, but the quality of the ingredients shines through. On a chilly night, a warm meal feels more satisfying than lavish palace cuisine. I kept eating, and before I know it, the bowl is empty.

“That was delicious. Thank you.”

“Your kind words honor us. It’s just a simple dish made with local ingredients, but I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

The baroness bows and gently strokes the twins’ heads as she approaches them. Come to think of it, I have no memories of such affection from the even my own parents , king and queen.

My mother, consumed by state affairs, barely spared me a glance, while my father lived freely, leaving troubles to his wife. Their love existed, but it was a distorted form—not what I sought.

Unable to see that, I began to see Angelica, who tried to guide my actions, as resembling my mother, and eventually grew to resent her.

“Angelica…” I find myself saying aloud.

“Is Angelica happy here?”

I don’t know why I asked.

“Yes, Angelica often smiles happily,” the baroness replies brightly, showing no sign of deceit. When was the last time I saw Angelica smile? She used to smile often when we were newly engaged. As she underwent training to be the next queen and started attending the academy, growing closer to Olivia, she always seemed displeased. And it was all my fault—Angelica’s actions were blameless.

“When we first met, I couldn’t believe such a fine lady would be engaged to our son. A duke’s daughter and our boy—unthinkable.”

“Viscount Bartfort achieved great things. You must be proud.”

“Of course, as the mother who bore him, I’m thrilled he’s succeeded. But as a parent, I’ve always worried about him.”

The baroness fusses over the twins’ blankets and adds wood to the stove, less like a noblewoman and more like a servant. It’s common knowledge that Bartfort’s mother is a commoner and that he was treated as an illegitimate child born of a mistress for years.

“He’s sharper than most but always held back. Because I’m a commoner, we couldn’t afford to send him to the academy. He left home to protect us from harm when a marriage was forced on him—a kind son.”

“His talents far surpass most noble heirs—certainly more than the scoundrels who kidnapped Angelica.”

“When he returned from the war, he was scarred in body and soul. He was ready to die alone to spare us. My husband and I spent nights crying for him.”

Compared to Bartfort’s struggles, my complaints are childish whining. Ignorant of my privilege, I mistook a commoner’s life for freedom. Whether you’re fighting to survive or dedicating your life to the kingdom, status doesn’t change the weight or purpose of a life.

“Thanks to Angelica’s devoted care, Leon recovered. I never imagined I’d hold grandchildren like this in my youth.”

“No hardships?”

“This is the frontier—failures and struggles are endless. But looking back, they make for fond memories.”

“Angelica has it tough.”

“She’s a perfect lord’s wife. As a farmer’s wife, she’s hopeless.”

Of course. Olivia might have experience, but for the five of us, it’s either nobility or adventuring—nothing else.

Angelica, trained to be a queen, must feel the same. Marrying a rough upstart who rose through war, in a tiny frontier floating island compared to a ducal house, is a fate anyone could understandably resent. Yet, when I met Angelica again, she neither cursed the royal family nor lamented her circumstances.

She had long since seized her own happiness through her strength. There’s no room for me to intrude on that. I glance at the children sleeping beside me, wrapped in blankets. The girl, especially, strongly resembles a young Angelica.

Because I broke off our engagement, Bartfort was able to recover. Because Angelica and Bartfort came together in this land, these twins were born.

A cruel twist of fate, or perhaps divine providence? In the end, it was Bartfort, not me, who could make Angelica happy. Even if our engagement had continued, I’m certain we would’ve become a colder couple than my parents. I have no right to say anything about Angelica. Apologizing would only be a way to ease my own guilt—and she wouldn’t want it anyway.

“Are they alright?” I ask, unable to bear the endless spiral of thoughts, letting the words slip out slowly.

All I can do now is pray for the safety of those kidnapped and those who went to rescue them.

“They’ll be fine,” the baroness replies. “The people Your Highness brought are known for their strength, and our men don’t die easily.”

“You trust them.”

“They’ve faced danger countless times. My husband always came back, even when injured. My sons are the same.”

“The people here are resilient.”

The tension in me eases, if only a little—well, quite a bit. The baroness bows, gathers her grandchildren, and leaves, leaving the room in silence once more.

The future is utterly uncertain. Actions I thought were best brought chaos, and deeds I mocked as foolish nurtured life. In a world that defies control, even heroes can do little. For now, all I can do is pray for everyone’s safety. As I entrust my wishes to the twinkling stars in the winter night sky visible through the window, my consciousness fades.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The man was born the third son of a noble in the kingdom. In the kingdom’s nobility, the eldest son inherits, the second is a spare, and the third or lower must rely on sheer luck or their own strength to survive. From the moment he became aware of the stark difference in treatment compared to his brothers, his life was steeped in resentment.

True, a noble’s son could become a knight without effort, but it’s a one-generation title. Born just a little later, he had to serve brothers barely different from him, groveling as their lord. His family arranged a fiancée—but not a noblewoman. Just the second daughter of a commoner merchant. Why should he, with noble blood, marry a commoner?

His frustration manifested as aggression, turning into insults and violence against his fiancée and servants. By the time he attended the kingdom’s academy, he fell in with like-minded peers, and his disdain for those in the regular classes grew into persecution. His treatment of his fiancée drew criticism from his family and hers, and after graduating, he didn’t return home but used academy connections to serve a noble who shared his views.

Being a knight was a fine position—following his lord’s orders to harass commoners and seize money or goods as taxes. He skimmed off the top just enough to avoid blame, satisfying his desires. The world was rotten, so this was permissible.

Repeating this, he became no different from a Pirate. The turning point was the war between the kingdom and the duchy. What had been petty border skirmishes escalated into full-scale war. His lord was a traitor, secretly allied with the duchy to secure safety after the war, abandoning the declining royal family. With no loyalty to fight or die for the kingdom, the man deliberately let enemy forces pass.

It was his lord’s command, and he had no desire to fight a losing battle. He idly wondered what rewards he’d receive afterward. But it didn’t happen. A saintess and five heroes rose to defend the kingdom, slaying the duchy’s leader. The disorganized duchy was forced to retreat, and the war ended anticlimactically.

A storm of purges followed. The royal family showed no mercy to traitors. His lord’s entire family, from sickly elders to innocent children, was punished without chance for defense. The man faced punishment too, but as he acted under orders, he lost only his knighthood and wealth, sparing his life.

With nowhere to go, he sought his family—but they cast him out as a stranger. His fiancée demanded compensation and broke off the engagement for his past treatment. Penniless, he turned to adventuring, but the streets were full of such men. Competition was fierce, and even daily earnings were hard to come by.

In despair, drowning in drink, he spotted his former fiancée in town. She chatted happily with a new partner, while he, a fallen knight, was filthy and ragged. Rage surged, and he secretly followed her, tracking her home. That night, he broke in, slashed her repeatedly with his sword, and took her life. Afterward, he stole valuables and set the house ablaze.

He became a bandit.

Once that line was crossed, guilt and morality lost meaning. If he wanted money, he raided merchants. If hungry, he broke into farmhouses. If he desired women, he burned villages and abducted them. Living as a sky pirate, unbound by lords, laws, or status, he followed his desires.

He believed the world revolved around him. It didn’t. His crimes were just one tragedy buried among countless others in the post-war chaos and purges. The kingdom’s leaders, taking the situation seriously, sent heroes to hunt down pirates. These were the same heroes who crushed sky pirate fleets as students, and they swiftly decimated the pirates.

The man, though vile, wasn’t foolish enough to ignore danger. Knowing he needed protection to survive as a villain, he joined an organization through his former lord’s connections. Not all purged nobles were punished. Disgruntled non-mainstream nobles, disgraced former nobles, and ex-knights who delighted in oppressing commoners—the organization grew, still gnawing at the kingdom. The man was dissatisfied.

He gritted his teeth at serving nobles he despised again. The organization’s nobles were flawed in character and conduct, and he had to work as their lackey or face death. His pent-up frustration was vented on those weaker than him.

He didn’t realize he’d become the very nobles he once scorned. As the organization grew, so did its interactions with others. Inevitably, information leaks increased. A group that habitually oppressed the weak to hide its incompetence began to weaken under the heroes’ pressure.

The man, living in hiding while committing crimes, was himself a weakling. The time to turn back had long passed. Living in fear of when death might come, he drank more each day. The turning point came when an unknown figure approached the organization. A suspicious man, handing over a bag of gold, whispered sweet words:

“Let’s disrupt the kingdom.”

The true intent was unclear, but he had no choice but to obey. These were men who, instead of reflecting on their folly, blamed those who judged them. Using the funds, they harassed the kingdom from the shadows, beyond its reach. They mocked the heroes scrambling to restore order.

The fools didn’t realize their end was near. The duchy invaded the kingdom again. Was the instigator the duchy’s agent? That remained unclear.

But the fools hoped for the kingdom’s collapse. They cheered, believing their time to shine had come. Their folly blinded them to the fact that the kingdom’s fall would be their own. The man smirked as he watched the duchy advance. If the kingdom fell, he’d no longer be a criminal.

As the duchy approached, the heroes rose again. Fools, it’s over—miracles don’t happen twice. He didn’t realize he’d thought the same last time.

The miracle happened again.

The saintess’s power saved the kingdom once more. The kingdom’s people praised her as God’s messenger. The men feared her, believing she had divine protection. The nobles faced even harsher punishments and vanished. No one had the resolve to challenge the saintess anymore.

To survive, they had to act—but what?

A shady figure appeared again with a proposal:

“Let’s incite conflict between the royal family and the ducal house.”

Indeed, relations between the royal family and the ducal house had worsened in recent years. If they played their cards right and the ducal house usurped the throne, they might survive as collaborators. Desperate to avoid death, they fanned the flames of conflict without knowing the duke’s true intentions.

The royal family wasn’t naive enough to overlook such actions. The heroes destroyed the organization. The man, surviving by chance, fled with his comrades. He finally saw himself as the thief in a story, destined to be slain by a hero.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

“Damn it…!”

His curse is drowned out by the airship’s engines, his anger unheard. Even if someone heard, it wouldn’t change anything. He was frantic. The looming sense of death grew closer by the moment. There are people in this world you must never cross.

No matter how skilled you are, there are always greater talents. No one can fight endlessly. The whims of the powerful crush the weak, and public persecution can hang heroes. Heroes backed by the kingdom hunted him. He’d made an enemy of the powerful ducal house.

A cunning upstart whose wife was taken now targeted him. The future looked grim, and few realized it. Or perhaps they knew—but chose to look away.

It was a mistake to place such fools in leadership roles. They weren’t even nobles anymore, stripped of their titles and even their records. No matter how great their ancestors, they were mere parasites now. They were only temporarily placed as leaders for the organization’s sake.

But those oblivious to the situation grew arrogant, leading to this absurd mess. To survive, he had to act quickly. He needed to contact his men on the other airship immediately. But the sky pirates piloting this ship outnumbered them.

Acting rashly in this situation could get him strangled instead. He had to be cautious. Stopping at the sensation of something underfoot, he saw a partially full wine bottle. In a surge of rage, he kicked it, and the bottle shattered against the wall, spilling wine like ominous blood.

The real mistake was letting that mother and her kids join us! he cursed silently. Nearly a month ago, the Lady’s Forest headquarters in the capital was raided by the five heroes. He escaped only because he was away from the headquarters by chance. The capital’s airfield was under heavy scrutiny, so he and his men fled on an airship entrusted to an underworld group.

A few hours later, and he’d have been caught. Hideouts across the land were raided one by one, and he gathered surviving comrades to go underground. But more people meant more conflicts. Most of those arrested were noble leaders, and the knight-class or commoner members barely knew others’ faces or names.

Suspicion and paranoia grew, threatening the organization’s collapse, so a nominal leader was needed. That’s when he noticed Zora and her group, former nobles in a remote hideout, treated as errand runners. He thought they’d be easy to control. He never expected them to be so utterly incompetent and arrogant. Too late, he realized their incompetence was why they were sent to a distant hideout.

They began acting on their desires, believing themselves leaders. Naturally, some opposed them—his side had the numbers. Though former nobles, they were now stateless nobodies, stripped of titles and records. Perhaps realizing this, they unilaterally brought in sky pirates with ties to the organization.

Cowards always gather allies to form a pack, using the pirates as a shield against him. They needed manpower, but the pirates were brainless, beastly creatures lacking any refinement. They consumed supplies recklessly, raiding towns for whatever they wanted.

For those hiding from pursuit, they were nothing but a hindrance. Tensions grew daily, teetering on the edge of conflict, when the cornered Zora group secretly proposed a plan. The plan was to take over Bartfort territory.

Apparently, Zora had once been married to the father of the renowned Viscount Bartfort. They claimed Rutart, meant to inherit the territory, could reclaim it. They’d have pirates attack nearby ships to cast doubt on the viscount’s governance.

Then, they’d betray the pirates, letting Rutart “defeat” them to restore his noble status and take the territory.

The plan was full of holes, but they were so desperate they clung to it.

To think Bartfort’s family was on the ship they attacked! Rutart and the pirates ignored the plan, demanding ransom—what utter fools!

This was bad. The Bartfort family would surely send pursuers. The Roseblade and Redgrave houses might join them. Fleeing abroad was the only way to survive.

No—why not turn over Zora’s group?

If they secured the hostages and defeated Zora and the pirates, they might still save their lives. Yes, this mess was their fault. Let their filthy lives atone for the failure. First, he needed to reach the bridge, contact his men on the other airship under the guise of routine communication.

Though outnumbered, his side was better trained, giving them a good chance. He confirmed the feel of the sword at his waist. Leading a group would draw attention; he had to act casually. Hurrying to the bridge, he found the crew arguing.

“What’s wrong?”

“An airship’s approaching—fast, heading straight for us.”

“A merchant or patrol ship?”

“At dawn? A patrol would’ve signaled a warning.”

The crew’s mocking tone made him grip his sword, but he restrained himself. The instruments showed a speed no ordinary airship could match. A bad feeling crept up—the specter of death at his back.

At this rate, they’d collide in minutes. He had to escape.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

—shh—krr—shh—!

A man’s voice broke through the static.

“This is Viscount Leon Fou Bartfort. To the two suspicious airships: slow down immediately.”

The transmission sounded like a death sentence.

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Authors Note

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This chapter alternates between Julius’s perspective and that of a former knight. The knight isn’t someone like Marie, unfortunate in circumstance, but a corrupt noble who fell by his own actions. From a mob’s perspective, Olivia and the “five idiots” are irregulars capable of toppling the kingdom’s social order—terrifying if made enemies. In times of societal upheaval, blood flows freely.

With the release date set for the final volume of the MobuSeka novel, I might write a short story if I have time (vague statement). I haven’t decided if it’ll be general or adult-oriented.

Today’s also the update day for the Marie-route comic—I want to pinch Marie’s chubby cheeks!

I’d greatly appreciate any feedback or impressions to motivate me moving forward.